Portrait of Three People

Monstrous, misshapen, huge and unconcerned
She sways and bulges through the oily crowd.
Her heavy patience, touched with something proud,
Gives her a dignity she never learned.
Her path is strewn with rags and overturned
Ruins of garbage. Dumb but never cowed
She bears her throbbing weight, as though endowed
With the same fires with which the Virgin burned.

Near her a soldier saunters at his ease,
Smelling of swift destruction, foul with strife.
Yet he is clear-eyed, likes a bit of chaff;
There's humor in him too. So when he seès
This mountain slowly laboring toward life,
He nudges his companion, and they laugh.
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